


drape your arms around me and softly say; can we dance upon the tables again?

by girlspines



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon, Romance, harmless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:52:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5154371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlspines/pseuds/girlspines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>short and sweet oneshot inspired by <a href="http://elisebel.tumblr.com/post/132399869593/theloveworthlivingfor-gooooooaaaaaaaaaals">this absolutely adorable gif.</a> canon compliant, post finale fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drape your arms around me and softly say; can we dance upon the tables again?

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally a submission for the Korrasami Month 2015 prompt "Autumn (Workout)" but i really dont have time to tackle all the prompts so this just became a short drabble on its own. its nothing particularly groundbreaking, but nonetheless i hope you enjoy.

“ _Hundred and eleven. Hundred and twelve. Hundred and thirteen.”_

Korra's face was red and sweaty, her chest heaving with exertion. The backs of her ankles dug into Asami's hips as she pulled herself up yet again, panting heavily. Asami's hands were slick with the sweat soaking through Korra's thin cotton pants; it gleamed on the tops of Korra's cheekbones and her lips, stood out in silvery lines on the half moon of her neck.

“Slowing down already?” she said. “I thought you had more stamina than that, Avatar.”

Korra's teeth were bared in a silent snarl as she forced her body up again. “ _Hundred and fourteen_ _,_ ” she chanted, “ _H_ _undred and fifteen_ _._ ” She suddenly grinned at Asami through half-lidded eyes, a wolfish grin that was as bright as a knife blade in the twilight.

“Eyes up here,” Asami commanded, not unkindly. Korra's gaze immediately jumped from her cleavage to her lips, and then she thrust herself upward so suddenly Asami nearly lost her balance, boots crunching on dead leaves. Their lips came together with crashing force, noses colliding, Asami's teeth clicking down on her tongue hard enough to draw blood. The ache in her chest – the one caused by the sight of Korra's sweaty, heaving collarbones, the feel of her muscular carves under her fingers – suddenly blazed down her spine in a spiraling comet. It was not the first time Korra's touch set her on fire; for Korra was _made_ of fire. Her skin was always warm, her pulse raced and leaped and danced, blood running hot just like her smile and her hands, but it was not the kind of heat that burned, oh no: it was the kind of heat that made Asami think of home. Safety. Life.

“ _EWWWW!_ ” Ikki squealed behind them. Her voice was high-pitched with the kind of disgust that only children exhibited when they saw Grownups in the vicinity doing Inappropriate Grownup Things, like holding hands and kissing. “Can you _not_?”

“ _GET A ROOM!_ ” Jinora shouted through cupped hands; she was sitting on the steps of the Air Temple, a book in her lap. Korra's head immediately whipped in her direction.

“You little hypocrite, you're way worse with Kai in public than us –”

“Nope, nope, nope, I don't want to hear it!” Ikki snapped, bouncing in front of her face atop an air scooter. “We're here to jump in leaf piles, and besides, did you know you can get cooties from doing that kind of stuff?”

“Cooties?” Asami inquired, raising an eyebrow at her.

Ikki nodded vigorously, her eyes very wide. “They're like germs, but way worse! They're invisible, and you can only get them from doing that thing with your mouths. First you break out in hives, then you start bleeding from your butt, and then –” she pulled a grotesque face, making gagging, choking noises in her throat “– you're as dead as a doornail!”

“I don't know, sounds like a pretty good way to go to me,” Korra says. “At least I'd die happy.”

She performed another sit up, planting a chaste peck on Asami's lips on the rebound. Asami laughed and let herself melt into the kiss, deaf to Ikki and Jinora's catcalls.

“You really mean that?” she asked, when Korra leaned away again. “You're happy?”

Korra nodded. “Yeah. For the first time in a long time, I think. It's like … it's nice. It feels normal, you know?” She paused, then raised her eyes to Asami's face. “Are you happy?”

Asami was surprised by the question. In the three years in which Korra left for the South Pole and Bolin went to the Earth Kingdom to help Kuvira's cause, she'd buried herself in work, using it as a means of both distraction and a coping mechanism. Everyday she woke up, drank coffee, then drove to Future Industries, and did not leave there until late. Came home, ate a measly dinner of takeaway noodles, then spent the rest of the night in the workshop. She never stopped to think about how much things hurt – she didn't _want_ to. The ache in her chest was part of an old wound, one that was inflicted when Korra was incapacitated by Zaheer. _Incapacitated_ , such a clinical word for something so horrific. Another coping mechanism – she kept herself detached and calm and the only times she allowed herself to be vulnerable were in the letters. That was when the ache resurfaced, red raw and weeping. Of course, Korra's scars are far, far worse: scars on her wrists where the chains bit into her flesh, scars that came back in her dreams, like ghosts stealing under the door.

They were both still grieving – Asami for her father and Korra for herself – but yes, things were better now. Time had slowed down since Kuvira's defeat. At Hiroshi's funeral, Asami allowed herself to finally unpack all the feelings she's kept organised in neat boxes in the recesses of her heart, as one might keep their clothes or shoes organised; she'd cried for the first time in years that day, with Korra's arms around her and Mako's hand in her hair, telling her, _it's okay, it's okay, it's okay. Let it come._ And she had. The last few weeks felt like a dream – a dream about another person, a girl who was not her, who could not possibly be her. She was still afraid that she'd wake up alone in her bed, the space next to her empty but in the dark she could have sworn those twisted bed sheets were Korra's shape, like she'd left the room just before Asami opened her eyes – but slowly, tentatively, she was allowing herself to feel again.

“Yes,” she said finally. “Yes, I'm happy.”

Korra looked at her and then nodded, apparently satisfied with what she saw. They'd perfected the art of silent communication. Asami's expression remained one of perfect calm, but Korra had learned how to read her like an open book; she listened to Asami's heart rate and her body language, the way earthbenders listened to the earth, and just a quirk of the eyebrows or a twitch of the mouth spoke a thousand words.

“All I'm saying, it's not fair that I'm wearing a sleeveless top, and you're wearing all these layers.” Korra returned back to her sit-ups, her legs tightening around Asami's waist. Asami was standing upright, and despite her warm clothes – a thick black coat, red stockings, black boots, and a red beanie hugging her long hair – she shivered in the chilly sea air blowing off Yue Bay. She still did not cope well with the cold; whereas Korra lived in her singlets and baggy pants, she'd already fallen sick twice – and it was only the first week of autumn. The first time she insisted on dragging herself to the office despite coughing up half a lung, the second time Korra forced her to stay home so she could look after her. _You look after everyone else all the time, but who looks after you?_ she'd argued, and then she'd made Asami sit in bed while she spoonfed her hot soup and put moist cloths on her feverish forehead. “If I have to get all hot and sweaty, we may as well do it together.”

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Asami teased. Korra's grin suddenly sharpened, and then she flashed upwards, each and every muscle in her powerful arms beautifully defined in the moment; draping her arms around Asami's neck, she trapped her mouth in a much longer and deeper kiss – causing Ikki to shriek loud enough to break the sound barrier and Jinora to airbend a cluster of leaves over their heads. A multitude of emotional flotsam and jetsam rose in Asami's chest – that this was, what, only Korra's only second autumn in Republic City? – there were exactly ten thousand, five hundred and fifty-two trees on Air Temple Island (a random Ikki factoid) – the sweet, rotting scent of dead leaves were reminiscent of the days she'd spent hiking in the hills around the Sato estate with her father as a child. They'd bird-watched and of course, jumped in leaf piles, too. When was the last time she'd jumped in leaf piles? She couldn't remember. Her grief over Hiroshi's death was a quiet one, but ever-present; it snuck up on her sometimes, and it was the smallest things that set it off, like taking a shower or brushing her hair or driving on a different route to work. Now it was the smell of dead leaves.

“Eyes up here, Sato,” Korra said, and she came back up dashing three more kisses on Asami's lips, as fast as punches. They were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, and sometimes Asami worried vaguely about the future, about the possibility that one day they could have a fight, or break up, or simply fall out of love with one another like couples did sometimes – but Korra was right, it was nice, normal. They were making up for three years of lost time; this meant lots of kissing and hand-holding and whispering sweet-nothings into each other's ears, as if they were two silly lovestruck teenagers rather than grown women, but she had to keep reminding herself that there was nothing wrong with that. _You deserve this,_ Korra's kisses seemed to say, _you_ _–_ we – _have been through so much. You_ _deserve the world._ It hit her the same way her grief hit her, like lightning: just how _lucky_ she was to have Korra.

“Don't you dare,” she murmured, her voice slightly husky. “Don't you _dare_ , Korra –”

“ _H_ _undred and twenty_ ,” Korra gasped, and then she thrust forward, using her legs around Asami's waist as leverage; with a cry, Asami overbalanced, toppling into the leaf pile behind them, but the leaves covered the floor of the Air Temple Island Training Arena in a thick carpet of crimson and gold, so her landing was surprisingly soft. Korra came down with her, half-laughing, planting her hands either side of Asami's face. “Oops.”

“You did that on purpose,” Asami said. This time she leaned in first; Korra's teeth raked against her lower lip, tugging with just enough force to make heat flush all the way from her cheeks to her boots. Maybe she _was_ wearing too many layers.

“This is how we jump in leaf piles in the south,” said Korra. Her teeth, her sinfully sharp little teeth, pulled slightly at Asami's earlobe, a sensitive spot the two of them discovered during one of their late night rendezvous' in Korra's room.

“You don't _have_ leaves in the south,” Asami reminded her, but it was a feeble retort, her resolve growing weaker with each nip Korra inflicted on her ear. “Just snow and ice – and – and...”

“Seriously, will you guys give it a rest!” Ikki's furious face appeared above Korra's shoulder. “You promised you would jump in leaf piles with me, Korra, you _promised_!”

Korra smiled lazily at her. “Aww, Ikki, I'm sorry. But someday you'll meet a guy – or a girl – and then you'll understand.”

“Ew, no way! I grew up with Meelo, boys are so gross, and anyway, Mako broke your heart, so I don't want _that,_ ever, ever, ever!”

“What about girls?” Asami asked her. “Girls generally have better hygiene than guys. They're prettier, too.”

Ikki frowned thoughtfully at that. “Maybe if I met a girl who wanted to jump in leaf piles with me. But I'm _not_ sucking on someone's face, never, ever, ever, ever _ever –_ ”

Korra caught Asami's eye and waggled her eyebrows, as if to say, _you know what I'm thinking?_ It's a look that Asami knew well, a look that made her fall in love with Korra all over again every time she saw it. Their lips met again, first in long, deep kisses, then Korra segued into quick little pecks on Asami's neck, her cheeks, and the back of her arm down to her hand that caused her to laugh so hard she nearly swallowed a leaf. Naga was barking joyfully in the background, trying to catch the leaves that Jinora was bending into the air at higher and higher altitude, and now Ikki was pulling Korra up by her collar, talking her ear off about all ten thousand trees on the Island, what kinds they were, how Aang got them there, and where they were located – all welcome sensations, like Korra's hands around hers, it was like a part of home. More leaves rained down, momentarily turning Asami's world into a spinning, shifting kaleidoscope of gold and red. It made her sad, like all memories of her father made her sad, but then she looked up at Korra's face and saw all that peace and happiness reflected in her vivid blue eyes, and then she realised that if trees could wither and die in the autumn only to come alive in spring, like each cycle of the Avatar spirit being reincarnated, then maybe, just maybe, love could be reborn here, too.

 


End file.
